


Stairway to Hell

by supernovascotia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Also like;;; you could read this as platonic if you really tried but i promise it's not, Angst, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale calls Crowley pretty and that's all I'm gonna say about that, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Let aziraphale say fuck 2k19, M/M, One Shot, Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Spoilers, Swearing, dear g-d he is so sad and anxious someone give this angel a hug, in which case why are you reading GO fanfiction, mission failed we'll get em next time, you WILL be sad unless you absolutely hate the main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 18:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovascotia/pseuds/supernovascotia
Summary: AU where Aziraphale doesn't catch the last prophecy, they don't switch bodies (spoilers whoops), and only Crowley gets kidnapped. Aziraphale has to literally go to Hell to save him. Spoiler alert, there's no happy ending. And while this could be read as platonic, it is NOT intended that way even remotely.





	Stairway to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot, and I actually wrote it for my Mythology class based on Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey. The pacing is a little funky in parts, but that's because I had an 8-page limit on the assignment and went to exactly 8 pages. I actually didn't mean to make the ending ironically tragic but it basically wrote itself and I 100% cried after I wrote it.
> 
> Disclaimer: this may actually belong to my school now that I turned it in for a grade, so if they ask me to take it down it will be taken down. I'd like to keep it up however, and I think it's mine, but creative work ownership is weird and complicated in academic institutions
> 
> Enjoy!!!!!

It was the end of the world. Or rather, it had been. Crowley and Aziraphale had stopped that, hadn’t they? Newton and Anathema and the Them and Adam had all done their part, combatting the nuclear apocalypse, the four Horsemen, and Satan himself, respectively. Then why was Aziraphale so sure that something was still coming? He couldn’t be sure, but he wished he had caught the last of the Nice and Accurate Prophecies, or that he had gotten to Anathema before she burned the Further Prophecies. But he hadn’t, and here he was after the Not-Apocalypse with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that something terrible was about to happen.

Aziraphale took a bite of his ice lolly and a deep breath, and he was about to voice his concern to Crowley when there was a sudden commotion behind him. He whipped around to see what was going on with his stomach in his throat, and his lolly fell to the ground. Crowley was being dragged away for all to see by two supposed humans Aziraphale hadn’t noticed. The only thing that gave them away were the maggots on one’s face and the flies buzzing around the other. _Hastur and Dagon._ Aziraphale tried to run to his friend, but his foot caught on a misplaced knotted branch and he fell to the ground, his hands touching the concrete just as the three demons sunk all the way into the Earth. The last thing he heard before his head hit the ground was his best friend calling his name.

When Aziraphale came to, he was alone. Crowley was gone without a trace. He was in Hell, and Prince Beelzebub was going to torture him, or worse. Aziraphale knew with certainty that he would never see Crowley again unless he did something drastic. But what? He didn’t have much time to figure it out. He had to think, and quickly. What could he do? Would any of the other angels be willing to help him? What about G-d Herself? Unlikely. Her plan was ineffable, and the only plan Gabriel and Michael seemed to care about was the Great Plan, which he and Crowley had stuck a wrench in. It seemed his only allies were the ones with whom he had saved the world, and of them, only Adam could possibly remember. _Humans and their limited imaginations, dismissing anything their brains can't comprehend._ Adam, though, he had reconstructed the world. Perhaps he had kept some of his power and remembered. There was only one way to find out.

During the drive to Lower Tadfield, Aziraphale tried to brainstorm ideas on how to save Crowley. He had to get into Hell, that much was clear, but beyond that he had no idea. Surely demons could sniff out an angel from kilometres away. His head was still too foggy to think properly. He was panicking, both from Crowley being kidnapped and because he had just stolen a car for the first time. Crowley was the one – _IS the one_, Aziraphale had to remind himself, Crowley wasn’t dead yet – who would do the dirty work, so Aziraphale had never even driven a car, much less owned one. He knew the owner of the vehicle wouldn’t be too perturbed since Aziraphale had replaced the car with a much nicer one, but he was still nervous that he had done the wrong thing yet again. He was too distracted, and the car was starting to veer. It would be dangerous for Aziraphale to discorporate again today, so he focused on getting the car to Tadfield as quickly as he could, even daring to go a few km/h over the limit.

Once Aziraphale arrived at the Young house, he formulated a way to get inside. He decided to claim to be a traveling vacuum salesman. That was believable, or so he thought. He rang the doorbell and Mr. Young answered. “H-hello sir,” Aziraphale stammered, suddenly realizing he had forgotten to miracle a vacuum – my name is A. Z. Fell, and I-”

“Let him in, dad, I’ve been expecting him,” interrupted Adam. 

So he did still have some power, at least, if he knew who Aziraphale was. Mr. Young didn’t contest, but instead opened the door wider, and the angel stumbled through the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dark room to see the boy playing video games. Not surprising, he supposed. 

Adam waited for his adoptive father to leave before speaking. “So, Crowley’s gone.” 

Tears sprang to Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“No, you idiot, he’s not dead. Yet. But that’s up to you.”

“Up to me?” Aziraphale inquired.

“Yes, up to you. I can’t very well go down there considering what happened yesterday. Besides, mum grounded me.” Adam’s video game system beeped otherwise. “I changed her mind a bit. I can still do what I want in here. But I can’t leave. Bit like Calypso, really. She’s real, you know. I kept her.” Aziraphale hadn’t known that in addition to Atlantis, the Kraken, and aliens Adam had materialized Ogygia from his dreams. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised though. Adam had a keen interest in the magical and had for some time.

“So you can’t help, then. I see.” Aziraphale sighed, and he started to wilt. If the son of Satan himself couldn’t help, who could?

“I didn’t say I couldn’t help. I just said I couldn’t go with you.” Adam rolled his eyes. “I suppose I have to spell it out for you, then. This is your journey to take, not mine. You need a disguise, though.” Aziraphale blinked rapidly. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Are there any demons who are asocial or busy enough that nobody will notice if there are two of you, and whose duties are vague enough to get you near Crowley?

Aziraphale thought about it. He had a bit of background knowledge from Crowley, but they hadn’t talked about Heaven or Hell much except to complain about their respective supervisors. One of the few demons Crowley actually liked came to mind though. And she was the demon of retribution and a possessor. It was almost poetic. “What about Alastor?”

“What does he normally do?”

“She spends most of her time on Earth possessing people and inspiring thoughts of revenge in them. After everything that happened yesterday, I believe she’s quite busy. Crowley’s quite fond of her, I think.”

“Perfect. And you’ve met before?” Adam confirmed.

“I believe so. I know what she looks like anyway. Why?”

“Because, you idiot, you need to shapeshift into her form to get into Hell.” Oh. Adam’s plan was starting to make sense now. Aziraphale was to shapeshift into a demon nobody would notice was there so that he could get close to Crowley and get him out. His fear subsided a bit and was replaced with hope. Maybe he really could save Crowley. _But how to-_

“Yeah, yeah, how to get into Hell in the first place, I know. It’s obvious, isn’t it? You don’t need to sneak around. Once you’ve shifted into Alastor’s form you can walk in the main entrance. After that, I’m sure the other demons will all be talking about the Traitor and where he’s being kept.” Aziraphale winced at the epithet. It wasn’t fair to Crowley after all he’d done. But demons were never fair. That was their whole thing, wasn’t it? “So, you’ll listen and follow directions to get to him, then he can tell you the back way out. Easy. Now get going. You’re losing time, and I’m losing my game.”

So, the plan was set. Aziraphale wasn’t sure it would be as easy as Adam made it sound, but he was close to confident that he could do it. He thanked Adam, exited gracefully, and got back in the car. He headed back to London, and he even dared to speed this time. A few minutes outside the city, he shifted his form to look like Alastor. She was pretty, as far as demons went. _Crowley’s prettier. _

Once Aziraphale was in the building, he looked at the two escalators. He almost went to the one going up out of habit, but he changed direction before anyone saw him. As he went down the escalator for the first time in his 6000 years of living, he tried to quell his panic. _Just act natural_, he thought. There’s no reason for Alastor not to pop in and out. He stepped off the escalator. The floor was sticky with some bodily fluid. The place smelled rank, but he was focused on listening around him. He moved towards the nearest hallway slowly, jostling against demons in the packed atrium, hoping desperately to overhear something helpful. _Just act natural. Just act natural. Just act natural._

“Yesss, I heard the Traitor’sss going to ssspend a thousssand yearsss being boiled in hisss ssskin.” _Bingo._ Dagon just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Hassstur and I brought him ssstraight to the sssteam room.” 

Aziraphale had no clue where the steam room was. He was about to risk asking when the other demon responded. “I could use a good steam. I’d like to see the Traitor in the flesh. Not that he’ll have it for long.” Aziraphale started to breathe a sigh of relief before catching himself. Not in time to not be noticed, however.

“Alassstor! What are you doing back here ssso sssoon? I thought you sssaid the vengeanccce wasss good today.” Aziraphale’s heart jumped to his throat again. _Act natural. Act natural. Act natural._ He blinked, then grinned.

“It’s almost too good, really. There’s so much chaos it’s overwhelming. I was thinking of taking a break and getting some steam in myself. Now that I know the Traitor’s there,” the angel winced again at the word “even better.” The unknown demon eyed Aziraphale suspiciously, but Dagon took it in stride, grinning.

“I did a fantassstic job, didn’t I? Hassstur wasss there too, of courssse, but we all know who did mossst of the work.” _No you didn’t. Hastur was the one who had his elbow around Crowley’s throat. You just laughed as you wrenched his arms around._ Aziraphale could feel the scowl forming on his face. He laughed bitterly and turned away, walking towards the hallway. “Ally, the sssteam room isss the other way, remember?” _Shit. Act natural._ Aziraphale turned back around, his eyes wide, racking his brain for an excuse as to why any demon would have forgotten the layout of Hell.

“I bet she’s just tired. You know how Ally gets when she’s eaten too much.” The unknown demon laughed and turned to Aziraphale. “Let’s go, Alastor. I’ll walk with you.” How kind of them. Aziraphale wasn’t expecting any demons to be helpful. But here one was, leading him exactly where he needed to go. The pair slowly worked their way through the crowd of demons – _why is it so crowded?_ – and down the hallway, jostling against each other every so often. The demon suddenly turned and shoved their body into a hidden door, revealing a very hot, very wet room. The steam room. They pulled Aziraphale inside and shut the door.

“What are you playing at?”

Aziraphale was pretty sure his heart completely stopped beating. The pause was only a few seconds, but it felt like years. “What do you mean? I’m not playing at anything.” He looked around, hoping to G-d that the only other demon in here was Crowley. They were alone. Crowley was gone. The angel’s stomach reeled. Where was his friend?

The unknown demon scoffed. “Yes, I’m sure you’re not. Except that Alastor has never used the steam room. She despises water. She’s also far too loyal to Crowley to come in here just to see him suffer. So, who are you then?” Alright, so the demon didn’t know yet that Aziraphale wasn’t one of them. He still had a chance. He steeled himself. _Act natural._

“Fine. You’ve got me. But frankly, it’s none of your business who I am. I’m here to see the Traitor on display. That’s all you need to know.” Concise and slightly rude, that was perfect. There’s no way that the demon... was laughing? Why were they laughing? Aziraphale kept his face blank as best as he could, but he was sure the demon could see the fear creep back into his eyes. He was running out of time, he knew it. He had to get to Crowley.

“Good, that was good! You almost had me there for a second,” the demon chuckled. “Thing is, you don’t know who I am, or what I do. Unfortunate, really. I was, until very recently, the Traitor’s boss.” Aziraphale racked his brain, to no avail. “Ah, I see he never mentioned me. No matter. I’m Shax. I am the Grand Marquis of Lies and Mistruths. I see through your every false word to your core. Besides, while Dagon may have his head too far up his own ass to be able to smell anything other than his own shit, I still recognize the stench of angel. Hello, Aziraphale.”

_Oh, fuck._ Aziraphale was about to die, wasn’t he?

Shax continued. “Don’t worry, little angel. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just here to stall you. And my job is done. You can go now. He’s all the way down the hall, on the right.” 

Aziraphale stood up, his legs like jelly and his head spinning. He needed to get to Crowley, and he needed to get there now. He pulled the heavy door open – it had to be 100 kilograms at the very least – and pushed his legs as hard as he could into the hallway, nearly slipping on the water condensation on his shoes. He turned right – no, left, it was left. Left down the hallway, door on the right. Aziraphale could barely see. His heart was pounding, his head was reeling, he wasn’t sure whether he was going to throw up or pass out or both. The hallway seemed to stretch in front of him. He couldn’t tell if it was 5 metres or 500 metres. Possibly it was both.

Finally, he reached the end. The door on the right was somehow even heavier than the last one. He started pushing. At some point, he wasn’t sure when, he had switched back into his angelic form. He didn’t care. He had to save Crowley. One final push, and the door slammed open.

There he was. Crowley, the love of Aziraphale’s life, being suspended by his wrists over a bath filled with holy water. He looked almost angelic somehow, and his face, streaked with tears, lit up as if his whole world had suddenly appeared – which, in fact, Aziraphale had. Crowley called out for his angel as his body relaxed. Then his toes hit the holy water, and Crowley was gone.


End file.
